


The Get Through

by pinkturtle55



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alex has ocd, F/F, maggie is supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkturtle55/pseuds/pinkturtle55
Summary: Alex has spent years trying to hide her OCD until one night she finds out she doesn’t have to.





	The Get Through

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It took me a lot of time to write this fic as it is a very personal topic for me and I was hesitant about posting it. OCD can manifest in a lot of different ways and it is different for everyone. I hope that this fic can help people understand the reality of OCD a little better as well as show others with OCD (like myself) that they are not alone
> 
> Trigger warning: OCD

She washed her face three times. 

She washed her face three times because she needed to keep Kara safe. Because even though Kara was Supergirl, the girl of steel, she was still Alex’s little sister. She was Alex’s responsibility.

She washed her face three times because Maggie was out there, on the streets, everyday. She was putting herself at risk to protect National City. She could be hurt or killed. And Alex needed to protect her.

She washed her face three times because J’onn had already been through so much. His family had been murdered, he had had to flee his planet. And Alex didn’t want him to have to go through any more. 

And part of her knew that it was irrational. Part of her knew that the number of times she washed her face wouldn’t change anything. Whether it was once or twice or a thousand times. That it didn’t matter.

But another part of her whispered, what if. 

What if it did matter? What if something did happen? What if Kara or Maggie or J’onn got hurt?

And what if she could have prevented it?

And standing in the shower, her body tense and her back tight, that part of her won. That part of her that told her she had to wash her face three times. That if she didn’t, something bad would happen. And Alex knew it would win, because she tried to fight it, the irrationality, the panic, but everytime, everytime she was stuck with the what if.

Because if anything happened to them it would destroy her. 

And what if she could stop it?

She let the water rinse the soap from her face for the third time and then began to wash her body. 

Maggie knocked on the bathroom door, “hey Alex, the food’s here, you almost done?”

“Yeah,” Alex called back, “I’ll be out in a few.”

But her heart was racing and her hands were getting shaky. Her whole body felt hot. She tried to take slow breaths because this made it worse. 

Did she wash her face three times?

Or had it only been two?

Alex tried to focus. Tried to concentrate. 

And when she was done she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She took her towel and dried off carefully. 

And her heart was beating too fast. 

Because Maggie was waiting for her. And Maggie would wonder what had taken so long. 

And tonight she felt panicky. Her chest was too tight and she couldn’t get enough air. Because Maggie would ask, Maggie would question. 

Alex was silent when she entered the kitchen and then Maggie turned and smiled at her.

And Alex smiled back, she had to smile back. 

The pizza box was on the counter and they both sat. 

Alex wasn’t hungry, but Maggie would ask her why she wasn’t eating. So she took a piece of pizza and took a bite. She didn’t taste it and had to force the food down. 

“You okay, babe?” Maggie asked, her head tilted and her eyes squinting.

“I–” Alex’s heart was beating too fast. And she felt stuck. She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know if she could say anything. And she could feel her face flush, which made the panic worse. Because Maggie would see, and Maggie would know.

And she had spent so much time and energy trying to hide this from Maggie.

Because it was embarrassing. Her inability to act rationally. What she did. Her compulsions. She was ashamed and she didn’t want Maggie to know. 

Because she was a scientist, dammit. 

She should know that her obsessions and compulsions were irrational. And she did, but that didn’t change anything. That didn’t change the anxiety she felt everyday. The anxiety if she didn’t wash her face just right. Or if she couldn’t remember if she had turned off the computer at the DEO or locked all of the doors in her apartment after Kara flew over.

So she would check and check and check to try to keep the panic down. The panic over what could happen if she didn’t. What would happen. 

And she knew it was irrational. 

But at this point, she no longer knew what was normal. 

It had been so long, she couldn’t remember. 

Maggie saw the panic in Alex’s eyes. She set down her piece of pizza and turned to look at her, “hey, Alex, what’s going on?” She asked gently, kindly. 

And Alex opened her mouth, but she couldn’t say anything. She had never said anything. Not when the symptoms started in high school. Not when they came back when she started at the DEO. And not now that they had gotten worse. She kept it inside. She always kept it inside.

But she didn’t know if she could anymore. 

And when she looked at Maggie, looked at her eyes, that was when the tears came. Because she was so tired of living like this. Of feeling like this. 

Maggie stood from the stool. She wrapped her arms around Alex and held her close. “It’s okay,” Maggie whispered, “it’s okay.”

And Alex cried. Out of frustration, out of anxiety, out of fear. And she felt herself wrapping her arms around Maggie and holding her tight, “I need help,” Alex whispered.

That was all she could manage. Those three words.

“Okay,” Maggie said, “I’ll help you, or we’ll get you help, whatever you need. Whatever you need, Alex.” 

And Maggie held Alex in her arms, whispering into her ear, rubbing small circles on her back, until Alex stopped crying. Until her hitched breaths evened. Until she wiped her eyes. 

Maggie guided Alex to the couch and they sat in silence together. Alex tried to collect her thoughts, tried to keep the burning embarrassment hidden. Because she had just let Maggie see something of herself that she always kept hidden.

Maggie gently brushed Alex’s hair from her face, but Alex couldn’t meet her eyes. Because she knew they would be soft and kind and loving. She couldn’t meet her eyes because she knew what Maggie would think of her after she told her. 

“Can you talk to me Alex?” Maggie asked. 

Alex bit her cheek. They were sitting, Alex with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Maggie beside her, shifted so she was facing Alex. Alex who wouldn’t look at her. Alex who had had panic in her eyes.

She had spent so much time, so much effort, hiding this from Maggie. Not even Kara knew about her OCD. Because when they were kids and Kara would find her in her room, unable to sleep as she worried and analyzed, she would give Kara a smile, tell her a story, and then send her back to her own room. 

And she couldn’t tell her mom, because this would be yet another flaw for her to pick at. So she said nothing, never uttered the words, not even to herself. Because her super-hearing little sister could never lie to Eliza. 

So how could she tell Maggie? How could she tell Maggie that each time she gave into a compulsion she hated herself a little bit more? How could she tell the woman she loved about her constant, paralyzing, fear of making a mistake, of doing something wrong, of hurting someone? 

How could she tell her when she had been programmed to keep silent, to keep it in, to deal with it alone?

But what did she do when dealing with it alone wasn’t working? When the anxiety and panic and fear was becoming too much? What did she do when she didn’t know how much longer she could live like this?

So she looked up, she looked at Maggie and her dark, deep, thoughtful eyes. And with a flushed face and a shaky voice, she told her. Alex told her what she could manage, what she could form into words. And then she waited.

She waited for Maggie’s eyes to change. She waited for her to pull away.

But she didn’t. 

Instead she gently rested her hand on Alex’s, “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this alone.”

Alex looked away. Maggie was here, she had stayed, and Alex hadn’t expected that. She had expected Maggie to see her the way she saw herself, as a failure, an embarrassment. 

“I’m glad you told me, Alex,” Maggie smiled her soft smile, “I’m proud of you.”

Alex looked back up, looked at Maggie, proud?

“You’re not a failure,” she continued, “you’re struggling, and it’s brave to ask for help. You are so loved, Alex; you are valid and you deserve to feel better. You deserve to be happy.” 

Alex opened her mouth, but she couldn’t say anything. 

“I love you, Alex, and we’ll figure out how to help you together.”


End file.
